


Front And Center

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Desperation, Embarrassment, Episode: s01e13 Front Man, Peeing Into Things That Are Not a Toilet, Post-Episode: s02e11 Forging Bonds, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: That damn taser was getting on his nerves. Andnotin a very useful way..
Kudos: 11
Collections: WC²





	1. Part 1: Discovery

Neal’s eyes blinked open. He didn’t know what had woken him, at least not until he felt the thundering headache. _Oh right, kidnapped. How long was I out?_

Judging by the insistent tugging of his bladder, somewhat resembling a battering ram, more than 3 hours, _at least_. He’d used the restroom before the mission, like always. It was the common sense thing to do. 

“Top of the morning to you,” the slimy voice of Wilkes curled uncomfortably next to his ear. 

Damn. Of all the people Neal did _not_ want to be kidnapped by (not that he ever wanted to be kidnapped, but still), Wilkes was at the top of the list. Especially considering his current state of discomfort. 

Wilkes decided to punch him in the stomach. A more effective strike than the man realised...Neal curled up, clenching his fists on his thighs, tensing every muscle without giving his _predicament_ away. 

Neal could not recall ever being this _compromised_ in front of him. Then again, their interactions had been brief, even _then_. There had been no probability of that. 

He took solace in the fact he wasn’t expected to sit up yet; he was having a hard enough time conjuring up wit with the limited concentration available. And while sitting, he had enough practice hiding this issue during long meetings with the FBI. Not to an _unhealthy_ degree, of course, just enough to indulge Hughes in the last 5 minutes if the timing was inopportune.

It soon became clear that the method of payback involved something outside of the van. _Great_ . Just great. Exactly what he needed, some public relations. A public restroom would be more enticing, but _you can’t get everything_ , Neal resigned himself to his fate. 

He stood up, wincing. He covered it up by rubbing his stomach, as well as a little lower while he had the chance.

Neal also stretched his arms, as the pressure when his feet hit the concrete was torture. 

As Wilkes explained his mission objective, his mind summarised it with keywords and violent imagery. It wasn’t uncommon for Neal to visualise, especially ahead of a creative process such as painting, but words tended to translate as _words._ Commands or tasks set by Peter at work, became a to-do list in his internal billboard. Now, however, the poster was considerably more _cartoonish,_ as the effort of holding his pee took precedent over excessive word use. 

*********************

His first attempt at getting the itinerary predictably failed. What he could _not_ predict was his bladder getting _really_ impatient with him. 

Well, he could sympathise, he was getting pretty sick of holding his _piss,_ too...

Neal rubbed his legs and bent over, glancing at the bee mascot on Kathy’s desk, trying to process what team it might be from, based on the other trinkets adjacent to it. 

_Okay, so you can analyse trivial objects through memory, but not hold it for another 2 fucking minutes,_ he panted. 

“Are you okay?” Kathy interrupted his thought process. 

“Huh?” he blinked. “Oh yeah, just thinking about how badly this screws me over,” Neal hated being rude, but time was of the essence. In more ways than one. 

The sudden remark almost made Caffrey leak, but he crossed his legs, and clenched inconspicuously. At least, he _hoped_ it was inconspicuous.

* * *

With the help of Mozzie, the FBI found Caffrey at the travel agency. Unfortunately, it was after he’d already left. 

Mozzie went to grab some tea, while the Burkes looked over the footage one more time. 

“He seems to be looking a lot at the lady at the desk,” Peter noted. 

“Well, the man tried to kill Neal, not like he’d have qualms about killing in general,” El stated. 

The tape showed Neal hunching over. 

“Is he in pain?” she griped.

“Well, we believe he was tased during the capture, maybe it’s referred?...” Peter shrugged, uncertainly. 

Then Elizabeth noticed what else could explain the agony. The movement was brief, but her eyes caught it. 

“Oh, wait, go back a few seconds,” she requested spontaneously. “Hmm..he was grabbed last _night_ , right?” 

“Yeah,” Peter replied. 

“So that’s, _ooh_..little over 9 hours ago,” El frowned. 

“Why is that relevant? What did you see?” he asked, confused. 

She rolled her eyes at her husband, moving the tape back again. 

“Now, pay attention to the hands in his lap,” she explained. 

Peter squinted, focusing. Then he spotted it; The subtle slip of his hand from underneath the other. 

“Oh! Is he..?” 

“Well, he _did_ wake up in a van,” El reasoned. 

Peter nodded in agreement. “Well at least we know he’s not _dehydrated_..” he remarked.

“He probably wishes he was,” she noted. 

“Which is why we need to find him ASAP. No pun intended,” Burke grabbed his coat. “Ok, maybe a little bit,” he smirked. He figured Caffrey would not appreciate the humour at this time. 

**Meanwhile.....**

Wilkes dumped Caffrey unceremoniously down onto the rock hard floor of the warehouse next to Lindsay.

“Hi, Lindsay,” Neal introduced himself. 

He immediately moved his legs up to add pressure, followed by crossing when that didn’t suffice. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsay checked. Her not-so-great rescuer was strangely wiggly for sitting on such a flat surface. 

“Yeah...just a _splitting_ headache,” he replied, groaning. It was true, as he’d been tased again...though it wasn’t the only thing that was aching. Nor was it his highest priority. 

“And the dripping’s _really_ not helping,” Neal panted.

The young miss Gless had a very good idea of what the problem was. 

She looked around their little alcove, and found an empty bottle. 

“Here. Use this,” she held it out to him. 

Neal blushed. Not only was he caught out by a teenage girl, said teenage girl was the daughter of the man whose bonds he forged.

He stood up, facing away from both her and their guards.

“Give me a whisper if he comes back,” he reminded her. 

“Okay,”

Neal unzipped and aimed into the bottle. The relief was immediate and needed no encouragement.

“Have to say; when I forged your dad’s bonds, this did _not_ occur to me as a potential consequence,” he remarked.

“Well, if it was up to me, it wouldn’t be. You’re nice,” she smiled. Neal couldn’t see it, rather hear it in her voice.

“This is pretty damn nice too,” he sighed. Both chuckled. 

“They let _me_ go to the bathroom,” Lindsay mentioned, puzzled.

“Well, they can’t afford to hurt you,” Thankfully, the moment was already awkward; conversation didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Even making you uncomfortable adds another year or two to their sentence,” Neal explained, finishing. He zipped up and put the bottle away, wiping his hands on his trousers. 

“Thank you for that, by the way,” he raised his eyebrows awkwardly, in gratitude, sitting back down.

“You’re welcome,” 

“Me, on the other hand..I’m just a consultant. It’s not the same as hurting/assaulting an _FBI agent_ , though not entirely like if I was a civilian. Since I’m on an anklet, and thus still in the federal prison system, they’ve got my back. It’s their ass if something happens to me in the field; You’re thought of as _safer_ inside than out. They hurt me, get a couple of months more at the _most_ ,” Neal explained.

“Funny, how easy it is to _think_ when you’re _comfortable_ ,” he noted, smiling.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

El decided to show Mozzie the tape. If anyone could help Neal without endangering him, it was Moz. And he needed to know what he was dealing with. Which Neal. 

She didn’t even need to tell him where to look. As soon as Neal bent over at the waist, he understood. 

“Ah..that’s a familiar pose,” he shook his head worriedly. 

“You see the problem,” she guessed. 

“I certainly do. Not entirely surprising, either. 9 hours is a long time without a bathroom break, _sheesh_ ,” Mozzie cringed. “I’ll leave before I snap and call a urologist...or several urologists!”

Satchmo barked goodbye at the door. 

“Wait. What was so _familiar_ about that _first_ image?” El questioned. She was more concerned with showing him the sneaky crotch grab. It hadn’t been necessary.

“Oh. Well, I lived with Neal for quite some time before he was arrested...as well as after. I’ve often seen him painting for hours on end, _ignoring his body_ completely. You can only sway and dance around for so long, without it becoming suspicious. Especially when there was hardly any music playing,” Mozzie mentioned.

“Well, he is _passionate_ about a lot of things. He doesn’t like to put it down once he puts his mind on it,” Elizabeth could picture Neal getting that _immersed_ in his artwork. 

“If only there was that _one_ exception,” he shrugged. His friend’s ADD seemed utterly incurable.

“The _number one_ exception,” Mrs Suit joked.

“I see what you did there...au revoir, Dr Haversham has an appointment with a patient,” Moz bid his farewells. 

* * *

Dante Haversham found his patient in the airport terminal. 

“Nice ‘stume, Steve Tabernacle,” he complimented, looking around nervously.

“You can drop the cloak and dagger; Wilkes isn’t here, nor am I armed. Except for one ironically _unloaded_ gun,” Neal rolled his eyes at him.

“Fine, assume no bugs. Bask in your overconfidence. I saw the tape of you at the travel agency,” Mozzie mentioned. 

“Came here to lecture me?...’cause I went before I left, Agent Rice can testify to that,” he stated.

“Please, as a wine connoisseur I am more than familiar with the workings of the urinary system, _and_ its limitations. If you hadn’t, you’d be in the hospital with sepsis. Interestingly enough, Tycho Brahe..” 

“Thanks, Moz, now’s not the time,” Neal interrupted. Haversham opened his mouth to apologise. “I’m fine. Lindsay gave me a bottle,”

“Lindsay _Gless_? Hmm...Ever hear of a little thing called Karma?”

“Yeah, so you can shut up about it, you’re not the Dalai Lama,” Caffrey snarked.

“Huh...your bladder is empty, but some of the irritation seems to have stuck around,” Moz noted.

“It’s out of impatience not incontinence, Dr Watson. Just tell me the bad news,” Neal insisted. “You’ve got that face on,” 

“The man you’re here to rob, Thomas Loze? It’s Edward Reilly,” 

Neal stopped in his tracks. 

“Well, now I’m _really_ glad I went to the bathroom already,” Neal muttered.

**\---------------**

**END OF PART 1**


	2. Part 2: Define Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was never forging any of _her_ bonds...

Neal stood and looked at the bundle of gold cards. It made him quite  _ relieved  _ to have gotten such a card already. Being caught stealing evidence would not be conducive to his impromptu plan to get face time with Alex. 

The sun glimmered through the plastic/metal alloy. Made it look more yellow than golden. 

The breeze blew down Neal’s t-shirt and hit his abdomen in a very  _ precise _ location. He did a side-step in response. 

_ You gotta be kidding me _ . He laughed lightly to himself. At least he was heading back to his apartment soon. 

* * *

Peter ran towards Neal, smiling widely at the sight of the familiar black scruff. 

“Thinking about adding to your collection?” he asked with amusement. 

Caffrey turned around, folding his hands in his lap, massaging his sides to heat up, as well as to  _ hold on _ .

“Pfft...that’s 5 carats at best, I set my standards higher than that, as you know  _ perfectly _ well,” he shot back indignantly.

“Quality over quantity...with the exception of gold bars,” Burke nodded, patting him on the shoulder. 

“How do you know it was gold  _ bars _ ?” Neal feigned innocence, as usual.

“Didn’t until just now, so thank you for that clarification,” Peter smirked. Neal just rolled his eyes. 

The area quickly filled with FBI agents, cuffing the accomplices and gathering evidence.

* * *

“You ok?” Peter checked. 

“Fit as a fiddle! Why?” Neal assured him. 

“Well, I just expected your pants to be a lot  _ darker _ , that’s all,” he remarked.

“Hilarious. ‘cept, I’m not  _ 5 _ years old. I took care of that already,” Caffrey snarked.

“Mhm...when did you have time for that?” Burke couldn’t stifle his curiosity. 

“Hey, you know what I say; always a way out,” the con man smiled widely. “Which...I might actually need to find another one...eventually,” Neal scratched his head awkwardly.

Peter took in his protégé’s stance. He bounced on his heels once, but wasn’t shivering from the cold. 

“Don’t worry, once Rice sees you’re still alive, you’re free to go. In both senses of the word,” he smiled at him. 

* * * * * * * *

Neal reunited with Lindsey who had been “perfectly comfortable” in his absence. 

“Well, so was I,” he beamed. 

“Won’t be for much longer,” she grinned, knowingly. 

He really did  _ not  _ want her to know just how right that statement was, so he deflected attention to her father. 

“Is it important that she gives the statement today? ‘Cause I think she could use a night off after everything,” Stuart requested.

“Oh sure, that’s no problem. Neal will give his statement tomorrow as well, we’ll just be gathering up evidence for now,” Peter explained. 

“Make sure that you’re comfortable enough for that, or it won’t do any good,” Lindsey advised.

Neal looked down at his feet. They’d been stepping from side to side.  _ Well, there goes that prayer _ . 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he agreed, glancing sideways in emphasis. “I’m gonna go make sure ERT gets all the cards,” 

“What was that about?” the older Gless asked, puzzled.

“Long story,” Lindsey shrugged.

“I bet,” Burke chuckled. 

“Am I missing something here?” Stuart frowned.

“Nothing important. Though for my C.I’s sake, try not to get kidnapped  _ yourself _ ,” 

**\-------------------------------------------------**

**END OF PART 2**


	3. Part 3: Chain of Custody

“Surprised he hasn’t tried to steal any yet?” Jones asked warmly, striding up to Peter. 

  
“Ah, he’s already got one. Don’t know from where, but he could’ve taken them on the ride over here; and if he  _ did,  _ a preliminary count of the cards, compared to the space inside the suitcase, will tell us,” he reassured him.

“That being said...no harm in a pat-down?..” Clinton suggested. 

“Got his anklet with you?” Burke queried. 

  
“No, I left it in the car till our guys clear out..y’know, just in case,”

Both remembered the incident with the Bible. Just because Neal hadn’t been the one wearing the FBI jacket, he could and  _ would _ .

A smirk appeared on Burke’s face. 

“Just in case,” 

He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Then used the same 2 to point at Neal, beckoning him. 

“Stretch out your arms,” Jones instructed. 

Neal rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Peter?!” this was not the best show of gratitude for his heroics. 

“Trust, but verify,” Peter justified, folding his arms.

The first part was painless...until Jones reached the parts  _ below the waist _ .

In fairness, he probably wasn’t slapping that hard AT ALL, but his bladder vehemently disagreed. 

“Ey, easy!” Caffrey complained.

Burke supposed that it wasn’t the most convenient time to do this; but then again, Neal didn’t seem to be in any agony, and was free to register a heightened need for the restroom anytime. Both he and Neal knew that.

“Look on the bright side, Caffrey. Cheapest date you’ve ever had,” Clinton joked. 

“Actually, I’ve had cheaper; ones where they paid me..well I say  _ they  _ paid me,” he commented, wriggling out of the agent’s grasp when he reached the hips again, reaching  _ under _ his shirt.

Neal rubbed his arms and legs. 

“Hands not warm enough?” Jones remarked. 

“You don’t have enough hands,” Caffrey replied. 

“Still; you’re not crossing your legs, I guess that’s gotta be a good sign,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah..why is that, again?” Peter prodded. 

Neal stuck his hands in his pockets, and shrugged, stretching his hips forward. 

“Always a way out,” he repeated, dismissing the question.

“Except...Lindsay seemed to know something about it; now why would that be?” Burke speculated. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neal lied. 

It wasn’t technically a lie, as it was already more than obvious, by way of established fact, that he  _ did  _ know. This was really more a  _ redirect _ , he reasoned.

“Maybe it has something to do with peeing in a bottle in front of her,” Lauren suggested, holding up a bottle filled with yellow liquid. 

“That yours?” Jones checked with Caffrey, unnecessarily. 

“I have never seen that before in my life,” he claimed, unconvincingly.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re  _ bonding _ ,” Peter patted him on the shoulder. 

Neal glared at him. 

“Yeah, broke the tricolour seal,” Jones quipped.

Neal put his hat over his eyes and groaned. 

“Just dump it in a trash can, Cruz, thanks. Lay off my CI, Clinton,” Burke commanded.

Jones took the “bio-hazard material” and left. 

  
“Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go,” Lauren shrugged warmly, leaving as well. 

“And sometimes you have to do it in 20 oz. bottle in front of a 16-year old,” Neal cringed, shuddering. 

“Holding up?” Peter asked, indicating his lower half. 

  
“I’m fine,” he nodded, looking around. “See Rice anywhere? She’s gonna miss her pep rally,”

They located Rice talking to Mr and little Miss Gless. 

“Neal Caffrey, no broken bones. Good, at least I got you back in the right number of pieces,” Kimberly noted. “Funny, I expected your wisdom teeth to be floating by now,”

“Hey, I escaped a super-max, give me some credit,” Caffrey countered.

* * * * * *

Jones approached the small dumpster with the bottle. 

“Is that evidence?” Agent Stabler stood behind him, his permanently tan forehead decorated with a frown.

“I mean...technically,” Jones held up a hand, warning him not to seize this particular item.

“The only person who can throw out evidence is a judge, Jones” Elliot reminded him. 

“This isn’t apple juice,” Clinton informed him.

“And this isn’t the time for being squeamish,” he insisted.

“It’s Caffrey’s,” Jones revealed.

“Bag it, Bilbo,” the taller man held out a bag of the appropriate size. He didn’t even flinch as Clinton complied.

**\-------------------------------**

**END OF PART THREE**


	4. Part 4: Conversations

Neal zigzagged past the non-descript brown brick buildings, checking behind him for stray suits. Normally, he would go for the more subtle approach of walking casually away from the crime scene, so that if anyone saw him, they’d assume he was meant to be there. 

Alas, he was required to pick up the pace, as “fit as a fiddle” was less than 30 min away from “Fiddler On The Roof”. 

* * *

The cab dropped him off at the penthouse, and he ran inside. Bugsy heard him enter and barked for June. 

“Hey, Bugsy!” Neal scratched the pug’s ears, squirming a little with his thighs closed.

_No, things were definitively_ **_not_ ** _square with Agent Rice._ He sighed at the sound of June’s heels hitting the linoleum.

“Neal, thank goodness you’re okay!” she exclaimed, hugging him. 

“I’m fine, I’m alive...and really really _hydrated_ ,” Neal admitted awkwardly, cutting off the hug, and rubbing his legs.

“Oh, well, yes..that would follow. I’ll leave you to that, then,” she smiled and left.

His toes were almost the only part of him that hit the steps as he sprinted to his door.

With one hand on the bathroom door, and his legs crossed, he gave his crotch a squeeze, and quickly checked his watch. His meeting with Alex wasn’t until 6. He had enough time to pee. Which was good, ‘cause he was not about to have her walking in, to the sound of _that_...

* * *

Peter spotted him walking into the office immediately. He utilised his double finger point whilst holding the anklet. 

“So, what did Alex have to say?” he asked Neal casually, walking into his office.

“Not much. She’s a very secretive person,” Neal said truthfully. He decided against denying it; He knew the only logical reason for ditching the anklet is to disappear, even if it was only temporary.

“Uhuh...likes to stay under the radar, away from _radiuses_ ,” Burke raised an indicative eyebrow, putting the anklet back where it belonged; on Neal’s left ankle.

Caffrey shrugged innocently, swooping the hat off the desk and back on his elegantly curly head.

As they were leaving the office, Hughes approached them.

“Either of you know why a bottle of _urine_ got logged into evidence?” he frowned.

Neal opened his mouth, then closed it as he found no way to spin it in his favour.

“Ah...that would be Caffrey’s,” Peter informed him.

“ _Caffrey?!_ “ Hughes squinted in disbelief.

“He was gone a long time, it was either that or log a _large_ _size_ pair of men’s _suit pants_ ,” Burke explained. 

Neal was as red as his many expensive wines. “And that’s my cue, _bye bye,_ ” he waved goodbye, running swiftly and discreetly to the elevator.

On the way, he ran into Jones. 

“Hey, Neal, hitting the head or heading out?” he smirked.

“I’m out, this is staying _in_ ,” Caffrey patted his bladder, sighing. This day could _not_ get any _worse_...

“I heard they logged something new into evidence,” Clinton mentioned, _randomly_.

Neal rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Exhibit P,” Diana chirped from her desk.

“Zip it!” he barked, pushing the door-close button firmly.

“You first!” they countered in unison, breaking into laughter.

_Nevermind_.

“I thought I told you to lay off of him,” Burke grumbled. “Should I get an anklet for your mouths?” he threatened. 

Both dove their necks into their respective files.

* * * * *

Satchmo wagged his tail like an airplane rotor as he discovered his human entering through the front door. He also immediately licked his hand. 

“I know, I smell like Neal, _you_ smell like honey’s pot roast,” Peter noted, ruffling his dog’s hairy neck.

“I should hope not,” El registered her disagreement, folding her arms, and subsequently smiling at her husband.

“My mistake,” he backtracked, kissing her warmly. They hugged.

As they broke it off, Elizabeth stroked Peter’s tie, lips closed as if holding back a laugh.

“What? Did I put my tie on backwards again?” he frowned, checking. 

“No...just something Mozzie told me,” El explained, patting his buff shoulders, and grabbing his coat. 

“Oh god, what theory did he spin on you this time?” Peter huffed, plopping himself down on the sofa exhaustedly. 

Mrs Suit grabbed Mr Suit a _healthy definition of full_ glass of Pinot.

“No, it was about _Neal_ ,” she smiled. 

“Oh, this will be priceless,” Peter grinned excitedly.

“Wait a second mister. First, tell me why you were late. Also something about Neal?” El guessed.

“Yes. He ditched his anklet to meet with Alex,” 

“Ah, the Music Box saga continues,” 

She noticed Satchmo sniffing around Peter’s briefcase.

“They’re not in there, Satch,” Peter shook his head at his Golden Lab.

“He’s a cuddly as he is cuckoo. One lick almost 10 years ago, and he’s hooked,” 

The dog wasn’t the main reason why he didn’t keep the bonds at home. There was the fact that it was still evidence, and thus not _his_ to keep at home in the first place. And the fact that the man whose hands made the bonds, would find them and think he’d grown sentimental, or were at all impressed with the forgery. Both were true. But Caffrey didn’t ever need to know that. _Ever._

“Two licks,” Elizabeth reminded him. “He’s like an elephant. Never forgets,” 

“Actually, that’s a myth. Mozzie would be a more apt comparison,” Peter corrected. “Speaking of, what did he tell you?” 

“Well; you know how he can be a bit...cautious?” El asked casually.

“Paranoid. Go on,” her husband answered plainly. 

“Well, he’s _also_ quite parental,” she explained. “It turns out, Neal’s known for getting so absorbed in ‘his’ artwork, that he...starts doing an interpretive dance,” 

“What kind of dance?” he asked.

“The pee-pee dance,” 

“Ah. Y’know, he’s also got a _concentrating_ dance back at the office. Thought I think _permanently distracted_ would be a better name for it,” Peter joked, chuckling.

“So that’s why takes him so long to open the door. He’s not _just_ hiding the counterfeits; he’s also _clearing out the contraband_ “ he took another sip of his wine. 

“Also why Mozzie drinks more,” El noted. 

Peter nodded in agreement. “Speaking of the Gless case; you wanna know the _way out_ Neal found?” 

She sipped some of her own wine in interest. 

“A 20 oz bottle in front of _Lindsey_ Gless,” he revealed, smiling. 

Elizabeth snorted. “Well, I don’t think Satchmo would lick _those_ hands,” she remarked.

“And that’s not even the best part. I told Jones to toss the bottle, but that _stickler_ Stabler insisted it be _logged into evidence_ ,” Peter laughed loudly.

“No exceptions,” Mrs Suit shrugged in amusement.

**\----------------------**

**END OF PART FOUR**


	5. Part 5: Confrontation

_ Just one more brushstroke _ . That was Neal’s new mantra. Had Mozzie been there, he might’ve made a snide remark about whether being kidnapped worsened his little...um... _ habit _ . 

_ Just gotta get the colour juust right... _ was what he’d decided an hour ago.

_ The bathroom’s right there, I’ll be fine _ , was what he reasoned 5 minutes ago. 

Peter stepped through the door, stopping.

The Suit scratched the back of his head. Mozzie wasn’t exaggerating,  _ this time _ . The office pickpocket looked as if he badly needed to rummage through some drawers and steal precious belongings.

“Tai chi?” he quipped. 

Neal spun around at the sound of Burke’s voice. He disguised the need to keep his legs crossed, or tightly squeezed..preferably both, by leaning on a chair.

“It’s called a creative process, Peter,” Neal huffed indignantly. The agent did not miss the squeeze he did at enunciating the letter _ P _ . 

“I should lock the door if you’re gonna keep interrupting it,” Caffrey noted. 

“You’re  _ concentrating _ . Gotcha,” Peter played along. “Ah, another Monet. Y’know what's my favourite piece he made?  _ Water Lilies _ ” he smiled. 

“Mhm,” Neal nodded, not looking at him. “Lot of nice flowers, trees,”

“ _ Water _ ,” 

Caffrey rubbed his legs, moaning. “Yeah, I’m gonna... _ pass _ ,” he remarked, standing up. 

“Right, gotta finish that one first,” Peter nodded in understanding. Neal ran out of the room, towards the back. A door was heard slamming. Followed by unmistakable sounds of a belt being unbuckled, unzipping, and finally water on water. 

“Oh, that meaning of  _ pass _ ,” he chuckled. 

* * * * * * * * * *

When Neal returned, there were 2 bottles of beer on the table. 

“Wanted to discuss some new details about the case,” Burke explained. “Got room for a cold one?” 

He blushed subtly, sitting down. “Long as it won’t lead to an encore performance..yeah, I should think so,” Caffrey raised his eyebrows awkwardly.

“That’s up to you. As was Act 1. Nice thing about theatre; there’s always an intermission,” Peter remarked. 

“Good thing about real life is you don’t even have to wait an hour and a half,” Neal agreed.

“Yes..that’s the way it is for  _ most  _ people,” 

“Come on, Peter, that’s hitting below the belt,” he snivelled, albeit smirking.

“Hey I just wanted to make sure you know, you don’t have to take  _ everything  _ from the office home with you,” Burke defended. 

“Well, it’s technically the other way around. But, yeah. That’s when you know it’s gone too far,” Neal surrendered.

“No; too far is having Mozzie tell Elizabeth, knowing full well she’ll tell me, instead of listening to him the first 100 times he confronted you  _ to your face _ ,” 

“Well, it’s listen to you, or have you go up the ladder and tell  _ Hughes, _ ” Neal joked, shuddering at the thought. 

“Who’d probably pass the buck, and tell Bancroft,” Peter noted. 

Neal winced. “Who’d tell Agent Roe,” 

“Who’d report it  _ straight  _ to Bruce” 

“Who’s Bruce?” Caffrey questioned.

“The section chief,” 

“Whom, just a few months ago, could’ve blurted it out to  _ Fowler _ ...okay, I think we’re done with the hypothetical,” he sighed, taking a swig of his beer. 

“And hypothetical it shall remain,” Peter lifted his beer as a toast. 

“For longer than this remains in my kidneys,” Neal remarked. 

“Or your bladder,” 

“Or my bladder. Does FBI stand for Full Bladder Investigator?” Caffrey asked. “ ‘Cause you’re very good at that,” 

“The Marshals aren’t. Why do you think they made your anklet waterproof?” Peter suggested humorously.

“I don’t know,” Neal hissed, whacking him over the head with his hat. “If I drop a really nice  _ aquarelle _ on it,” he shrugged, getting back to his brushwork.

“What?” 

“What? Cat got your tongue, smartass?” 

“Yeah, The Cat In The Hat, actually Einstein,” Burke rebutted. 

“I may not have claws, but I do have a very  _ dry  _ brush,” Neal threatened, holding it up completely seriously. 

Peter held up his hands in mock fear and was promptly scratched with the brush in his neck. He whacked it away. 

Neal pushed him off his chair. The agent got wide eyes in response to escalation. And then Caffrey tickled him. 

“I know all the best spots,” he grinned. 

Peter retaliated, grabbing his curls. “So do I, Mr Bonds,”

* * *

Mozzie stared at the scene in front of him. He was about to scold Neal for leaving the door open,  _ again _ , and for endangering his health,  _ again _ . But nothing prepared him for this display of mutual immaturity. 

“Children. The both of you,” he grumbled. 

“He started it,” the pair said in unison. 

  
“Oh yeah? What’s the score between you as cop and robber?” Moz challenged. 

Once again they said “3-0” in unison, both pointing at Peter. They shook hands calmly.

“Namaste. Nice Monet,” Haversham complimented. 

“Shame Shakespeare never said that,” Neal remarked. 

All three laughed. 

**THE END.**


End file.
